Star Trek: TNG Indstinguishable From Magic (53 page)

“The galactic barrier has been breached before. It’s purely an engineering problem.”

“We shall have two hundred years before we reach it. I’m sure that’s more than enough time to develop a solution.” Varaan sighed.

Varaan held Sela back for a moment when everyone else had left the transporter room. “There’s another issue in question,” Varaan said lightly. “The Federation . . . witnesses.”

“It wouldn’t have been my choice for them to see this vessel.”

“And it certainly wouldn’t have been mine.”

“We need them. They will have to be on the bridge. Is your cloak damaged?”

“Not any more. It was, when we arrived.”

“I’ll take it under consideration.”

“As Madam Chairman, or as Sela?”

“I haven’t decided yet.”

On the green and beige command deck, Varaan moved to stand between the command chair and the tactical consoles that were under the main viewer, with his hands behind his back like some ancient seafarer braving the wind and water on the prow of his ship. Sela, meanwhile, was in the command chair, leaning forward tensely.

“Three vessels are approaching,” The Romulan tactical officer reported.

Varaan raised an eyebrow. “Where did they come from? Were they cloaked?”

“They must have been . . .”

“A fourth vessel is—”

“Is what? Decloaking?”

“I think . . . forming. Assembling, maybe,” Leah offered.

“More antibodies,” Scotty said grimly.

“Antibodies?”

“When a body is attacked, it forms antibodies from cells. In this case it’s forming defensive craft from the wreckage of the
Hera
now orbiting the planetoid,” Savar explained.

Sela’s face was a calculating mask. “How many could it form?”

“There’s no way to tell without extensive study, and I doubt they’ll give us the time,” Scotty said.

“Do you have any good news?” Varaan asked.

“It doesn’t look like they’re under conscious intelligent control,” the tactical officer said.

“Captain La Forge,”
Ogawa called urgently from the Romulan sickbay,
“it makes sense for them not to be consciously controlled. They’re antibodies, which means they’ll be acting independently on an instinctive level.”

“That’s the good news?” asked Sela.

“It is if you’re worried about whether they’ll be piloted by good tacticians.”

Varaan had been listening closely. “So what will they do, instinctively?”

“Home in on this ship and the
Challenger,
and try to destroy them by brute force. They’ll just try to lock on and give us everything they’ve got.”

“What’s the bad news?” Scotty asked.

“There’s a lot of debris orbiting the planetoid, and all of it could be used to form new antibodies. Any that we break down will rejoin the pool of available material and can be reformed, given time.”

“You mean it has infinite resources for these things?” Sela asked

“Not infinite. Nothing short of a Q could have infinite resources. But a planet has a lot more energy stored up in it than we do. If we don’t find an escape route, we will run out of energy before they do.”

“Then we’re dead.” Varaan said simply.

“Yes.”

“I’m not reading any weapons signatures,” Tornan said, his thick brow furrowing. “Whatever they are, they’re coming closer.”

“If they have no weapons, they may not be hostile,” Savar said.

Nog wasn’t buying that. “Or they may be weapons themselves. They could still ram us.”

“Suicide vessels? I’m not reading any life-forms
aboard either. They’re purely mechanical,” Saldis said.

“Drone vessels, then.”

“I doubt that’s the right word, somehow . . .” Barclay commented.

“One of the vessels is in visual range.”

“Let’s see it,” Sela ordered.

The nearest approaching vessel looked like a large gyroscope set within a thick metallic framework. Pieces of rock were suspended within incomprehensible conglomerations of piping and tubing.

As they watched, the chromed silver circles of the gyroscope-like arrangement at the heart of the vessel began to rotate and spin. They moved faster and faster, and, within a few seconds, they were just a translucent blur.

And that was when it released the first bolt of blazing golden fire.

Saldis couldn’t believe his eyes. “They’re converting the rock into high-energy plasma bolts!”

Qat’qa was impressed. “It makes for a pretty good improvised weapon.”

“Too good! If they can wear down our shields, their plasma bolts will go clean through the ship from one side to the other!” Saldis exclaimed.

Varaan seemed unperturbed. “Then let’s make sure we keep the shields up.”

La Forge said, “Vol, Reg, help out in any way you can.”

Varaan remained calm. “Activate the cloak—”

“Don’t waste the energy,” La Forge said quickly. “You could use the extra power to shields and weapons.”

“You don’t think invisibility is worth more than that in terms of a tactical advantage?”

“Those ships out there, whatever they really are, are tapped into our minds.”

Varaan understood immediately. “They don’t need to see the ship to know where we are.”

Sela snapped, “Divert cloak power to shields.” She rose from Varaan’s seat. “We’d have to decloak to fire anyway, so why waste the time? Varaan, how good is your helmsman?”

“My best pilot is in surgery. The others are competent.”

The suggestion leapt out of La Forge’s mouth before he could stop himself. “Qat’qa can take over.” Varaan and Sela looked offended.

The moment passed. “Do it,” Sela said with a curt nod.

Varaan was amazed. “Are you out of your mind?”

“No more than you are.” Sela’s voice was cold. “Commander,” she added pointedly.

Varaan blanched. “My apologies, Madam Chairman. I spoke out of turn, but I’m not turning control of a new ship of the line to a Klingon.”

“There have been alliances with Klingons before. We used to use their ships, even before we sponsored the Duras family.”

Varaan was moderately amused by her use of the word “we” in regard to the technology exchange of more than a hundred years earlier. Varaan had been only a child back then, and barely remembered it. He vaguely remembered his father taking him on board one of the stormbirds once, but he hadn’t retained any impression of the ship. Like so much the Klingons made, it was a tool, built for rough handling not to be memorable.

“Being the power behind their throne, or even using their materials for our own use, is one thing. Giving a Klingon control of
this
ship is another. And she is working for the Federation crew.”

“Much as I hate to admit it, we did cooperate with the Federation against the Dominion—” Sela reminded him.

“We sent ships to aid theirs, and we had a few people placed on Federation vessels. Again, that’s one thing. Having Federation people rooting through
our
systems, on
our
ships . . . that’s another matter. Frankly, I’m surprised you’re defending the idea.”

“Not as surprised as I am, Commander. Believe me, there can be few in the fleet who despise Starfleet as much as I do.” Sela held Varaan’s gaze. “It’s an irony, isn’t it, Commander?”

“I’ve seen a lot of ironies in my life. Which did you have in mind?”

“You were just thinking about my . . . relationship, with Starfleet.”

“Your mother was Starfleet,” Varaan said.

“An organization only, not a species. They don’t call me half-blood because my mother was a Starfleet lieutenant. They call me half-blood because she was human.”

“It must rankle.”

“Being a half-blood?” She knew that wasn’t what he meant, and that he meant being called the name. “Yes. Not a moment goes by that I don’t feel the taint of my mother’s blood. In every breath I take, in the sound of my own voice . . .”

“In the name they call you?”

She laughed. “Half-blood. Like the glass is half full. But the glass is full, Varaan. Full.” He thought, then nodded. “Of Sela’s blood. Her own.”

La Forge sidled closer to Guinan, at the back of the command deck. “Guinan . . . These antibody ships, could they be the . . . what was it? The Valken?”

Guinan thought for a moment. “They could be. But I don’t think so.”

“Instinct?”

“More or less. I got the impression from the context of what they were saying that Valken was synonymous with . . . finality. Death.”

“You mean something inimical, fatal.”

“I mean something culturally representative of a final end. As far as I can tell, the Valken is, or are, their Grim Reaper. The more I think about the context of what they were saying, the clearer it is that they weren’t talking about a being or a ship or a species.”

“You mean it was more of a cultural term for them?”

“Exactly. The Valken wasn’t some creature or alien or person. The Valken is . . . the other side.”

“You mean an afterlife? Shakespeare’s undiscovered country, from whose bourne no traveler returns?”

“Well, in a negative view, yes.”

“Hell.”

“Their interpretation of it. Hell, or just oblivion.”

Tomalak’s Fist
reverberated under a shower of plasma bolts. “Shields down to twenty percent! Another half dozen hits and we’ll start taking hull damage.”

“Qat’qa, get this thing moving!” La Forge ordered. “Worf keeps telling me at his
mok’bara
sessions that the best block is to not be there when the strike arrives.”

“Excellent advice, sir,” Qat’qa shouted back. “But this piece of Romulan
degH
handles like a targ that’s swallowed an anvil.” Despite her words, and the situation, her tone sounded terrifyingly cheerful.

“Target the planetoid,” Sela ordered. “Scan for any energy sources.”

“What good will targeting the planet do?” La Forge asked

“It’s a life-form, isn’t it?”

“So?”

“If it lives, it can die,” Sela stated.

“How?”

“It must have central organs of some kind. Something analogous to a heart or lungs or a brain.”

Savar’s nostrils flared slightly as he looked at Sela. “We have determined that the life-form is, in essence, a brain only. A conglomeration of neurons, axons, and dendrites. It has no heart or lungs as we would understand the term. It does not need them.”

“Then it must have ganglia, or some kind of central nerve plexus.”

“Almost certainly, but they will be deep within the planet.”

“Savar has a point, Sela,” La Forge said. “The planetary crust and mantle are hundreds of miles thick. Your disruptors just don’t have the power to cut that deeply into it.”

“We must do
something,”
she snarled.

The Romulan sickbay was more spacious, and almost as advanced as that of the
Challenger
. Doctor Ogawa was curious about a lot of the gleaming black and silver equipment, but was polite enough not to interfere with it. All she was really interested in was checking up on the wounded and especially Scotty. She had attached another neurogenic patch to the back of his hand and the Romulan doctor had allowed her to give him a much belated cellular regenerator treatment.

Ogawa didn’t think it had worked, and she could see, in his eyes, that he knew.

Guinan came in, and sat beside Scotty. “Ribs?” Alyssa asked.

“Yes.”

“How are things going on the bridge?”

“Sela wants to target the living planet. Geordi doesn’t think it’ll work.”

“And even if they did, it wouldn’t be a good idea.” Ogawa immediately called the bridge to say so.

Chairman Sela didn’t sound happy to be interrupted.
“Is that your considered medical opinion, Doctor Ogawa? I thought you were a physician, not a geologist.”

“I’m just trying to tell you to think about what happens when a body is attacked.”

“It produces antibodies, which are the problem we’re trying to deal with.”

“And if that antibody production isn’t working, and the body is further attacked, it will produce even
more
antibodies. A bombardment of the surface won’t stop them. At best it would make no difference, because hundreds of miles of rock would prevent it from even noticing that it was being attacked, and if it did notice, we’d be a lot worse off.”

On the bridge, Qat’qa ignored the debate, and concentrated on throwing the ship around in ways its designers had never envisioned in their worst nightmares.

“Still,” La Forge said slowly, “mapping its activity, and looking for nerve clusters and vulnerable points isn’t entirely a bad idea. If nothing else, we might be able to correlate which areas are being used with the movements of the antibody vessels, and that might allow us to predict their arrival and their tactics.”

“Sensible,” Varaan agreed, nodding to his science officer.

Scotty sat quietly, waiting for Alyssa to return her attention to him. “Alyssa.”

“Scotty, I’d like to try the cellular therapy again—”

He held up one hand, and locked his sad eyes with hers. “Tell me honestly,” he said softly, so no one else could hear. “The treatment isn’t going to work again, is it?”

She stuttered slightly. “The . . . Anything’s poss—”

“Honestly. Please.”

Her eyes dipped toward the floor and the fringe of her hair trembled slightly. It barely qualified as a movement at all, but it was enough for Scotty. “You missed too many,” she whispered. “And the conditions on the planet—the thin air, the heat—have only exacerbated the problem.”

Scotty tried to ignore the tremble he felt in his ribs, and the moistness in his eyes. It wouldn’t do, and he wasn’t about to give the Romulans the satisfaction either. “Can you give me something that’ll hold me together for a couple of hours?”

Ogawa fetched a hypo in silence, and administered it. “What are you going to do?”

“I’m going to talk to Geordi.” He managed a faint smile. “Goodbye lass, and thank you for bein’ the finest starship CMO of your generation. And the finest nurse.” He stood. “Thank Guinan for me too when she wakes.”

“You can thank her—”

Now a tear rolled down his cheek. “No, I can’t.” And then he walked out of the Romulan sickbay.